


Luck be a Lane

by IntrepidHope



Category: Fallout: New Vegas, Smallville
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25433533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntrepidHope/pseuds/IntrepidHope
Summary: Lois Lane has wandered the wasteland as a courier for the past ten years. Sure, she's gotten herself in her fair share of trouble, but she's always managed to survive. She certainly wasn't expecting her latest package to be the death of her. Lois is shot and left for dead in a ghost town graveyard by a man named Lex, and the mysterious Platinum Chip she had been carrying is stolen. She manages to survive thanks to the kind-hearted Clark Mitchell, who has secrets of his own, and together they set off for the Strip to find Lex and retrieve her stolen package. But more forces are at work in the Mojave than either of them realize, and Lois will have to decide if she's more than just a survivor. Maybe she can be a hero too.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Lana Lang, Lois Lane/Clark Kent, Lois Lane/Oliver Queen, Oliver Queen/Chloe Sullivan
Kudos: 3





	1. Dust to Dust

_Damn it all to hell._

Lois really needed to stop finding herself in these sorts of situations. The kind where she was bound and held at gunpoint while two drugged-up Khans oh so kindly dug her future grave.

“You’re a long way from home, aren’t you?” another voice, all manner of suave, drawled as he motioned with his pistol toward her clothing.

She had chosen drab, unassuming merc leathers for the job, but the bright blue of her old vault suit was visible beneath now that these guys had roughed her up.

The third man was dressed in a black and white checkered suit, head shaved clean, and his fingernails on the pistol hilt were free of any grime. Obviously not a Khan. An unlit cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth as he scrutinized her.

“Vault girl turned courier... that’s an interesting lifestyle change,” he continued when she did not speak. Not that she wanted to encourage the slimeball who was threatening her life. “Do you even have any idea what you were carrying?”

He really wasn’t making it easy, but at least Lois knew when to keep her big mouth shut. The grave before her was deep enough as it was.  
The checker-suited man - she remembered one of the Khans had let slip his name was Lex - reached into his jacket with his free hand and pulled out a poker chip. It glinted silver in the lantern light.

The Mojave Express order had called it “Platinum” but there had been no other details about it. Although Lois had been doing this job long enough to know that the amount of caps she was being paid meant there would be no questions asked. Curiosity had only caused her trouble in her old life, yet just when she had finally learned to avoid its siren call the that trouble found her anyway.

She chafed against the ropes binding her wrists but they had been knotted tight. She was unarmed and alone against three gun-toting, unpredictable opponents. She didn’t even know where in this hellish landscape that was the Mojave she currently was. They’d jumped her on the road and knocked her unconscious before she fully realized what was happening.

“It really is a shame you got caught up in all of this. It wasn’t personal, just part of the game,” Lex continued, clicking back the hammer. “But truth is, the game was rigged from the start."

_Damn it all to hell._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first ever serious attempt at fan fiction so if you took the time to read even this little beginning, thank you!  
> As it says in the tags, this is a crossover of Smallville and Fallout:New Vegas, inspired by going immediately from binging one to the other (and also loving Lois's apocalyptic future storyline in Season 9). For those who are jumping into this with only a familiarity with Smallville, I will do my best to make the world and workings of Fallout understandable, but you can always check out the Fallout Wiki for more in-depth info. <3
> 
> *also Benny's last line is a direct quote from the opening of the game


	2. Goodsprings and Goodfellas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: some mention of alcohol and drug use

The first thing Lois wanted when she regained consciousness was a stiff drink. Although she wasn’t entirely certain how to procure alcohol in the afterlife, if it was even available. Depending on where she landed, morally speaking, she presumed it might be frowned upon. 

When her vision finally cleared, she found herself rather disappointed by her surroundings. The corrugated walls, moth-eaten curtains, and flickering electric light hardly said paradise. The grizzled doctor standing over her even less so. She started and tried to scramble back out of his reach, only to nearly fall from the surgical bed she had been lying on. 

“Where am I?” she demanded, hastily trying to assess every detail of her surroundings. A plethora of medical supplies, a tall metal lamp with an incredibly bright bulb, books that were in better shape than most she had seen, an old computer terminal whose screen blinked on and off. 

_Pull it together, Lane. You’ve been in tougher scrapes than this…like last night…._ Or had any of that really happened? If she had been shot point blank in the head shouldn’t she be dead right now? 

“Easy, friend.” The man held out a reassuring hand but did not touch her. “You should take it slow after what you’ve been through, but everything’s all right now. You’re breathing again, and you’re in Goodsprings.”

Goodsprings? Where the hell was that? 

And did he just imply that she had _not_ been breathing at some point?

She ran her hands over her face, feeling for a scar or deformity but found none. Her vision appeared normal. Aside from a dry throat and a little soreness in her muscles, she felt perfectly fine. 

Lex’s bullet to her face certainly hadn’t _felt_ like a dream. 

Lois took a steadying breath, filtering down her thoughts into order of importance before asking, “What happened? I thought I died.”

“Well, you did, sorta,” the man replied, scrubbing the back of his head. He was balding, the remainder of his hair a silvery wheat color and his skin leathered from long years in the sun. “It was a hell’uva thing trying to put you back together but you were a fighter from the start. I was determined to save you if I could.” 

“So I _was_ shot.” Not a dream.

Her words were a whisper but he still heard her. “If my son hadn’t found you when he did, we probably wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation. Whoever did this to you might have dug you a grave but they did a poor job of coverin’ you up afterward.”

“Lucky me.”

“Indeed,” he snorted. “Why don’t we get you on your feet, see how you’re holdin’ up.”

“I don’t even know your name,” Lois stalled, still trying to wrap her head around everything.

“S’pose introducing myself would be the proper thing. I’m Jonathan Mitchell, but most people in town just call me Doc.” 

“Well I wish it was under better circumstances but it’s nice to meet you, Doc. I’m Lois Lane.” She offered her hand and he shook it with a smile, then gripped her elbow to help her down from the table. 

Her first steps were wobbly, uncertain, her muscles clearly protesting. Doc stayed by her side as she made a short circuit of the room, nodding encouragement all the while. Each step fell surer than the last. Whatever he had done to patch her up, it was a miracle the likes she’d never known.

He did a quick assessment of her vitals and made a note in a clipboard he kept next to his equipment. 

“Your recovery looks to be coming along just fine,” he surmised after scanning his notes. “Give it another day or two and you should be able to travel home.” 

Home… the mention of it caught Lois by surprise. She had not had such a place in years, and certainly not since she became a courier.

“How long have I been here?” she ventured to ask.

“Well it’s been going on about five days now since Clark brought you to me,” Doc replied, appearing to mentally tally the time. “Do you remember much of what happened to you?” 

Images of the checker-suited man named Lex, the Khans digging a grave, and the silvery Platinum Chip flashed through her mind. But how much did she want to tell Doc Mitchell? He might have saved her life but he was still a stranger. 

“I got ambushed on the road while I was on a courier job,” she finally answered. “I suppose you haven’t seen anyone unusual pass through this area lately?” 

“Planning on a little revenge?” Doc raised an eyebrow, keenly assessing her motive. 

“I just want to figure out why what I was carrying was worth killing over,” Lois said with a shake of her head. “The man who shot me wore a ridiculously checkered suit. I don’t think he was too worried about standing out.” 

Doc frowned. “I didn’t see anyone like that but there was some commotion over at Trudy’s place a few nights ago. She might know something about this man. And my son might have a few more answers for you too since he was the one who found you in the old graveyard.” 

Lois felt better having a lead, and was eager to get back on the road. Sitting still had never been her strong suit. She reached for the holster on her hip before she realized it was missing, and that she was dressed only in her underclothes.

“Uh, where are my things? Please don’t tell me the men who shot me left me like this,” she demanded. 

“I can’t say they didn’t take anything, but what you did have I cleaned and left in the cabinet over there,” Doc motioned to a metal gun cabinet next to the exam table. “If you need a new weapon you could check with Chet down at the general store. He can be stingy but I think you might be able to talk your way into a deal.” 

She eagerly retrieved her supplies and slipped into her vault suit and what remained of her merc leathers. She would need to find some better armor once she found the caps. Her holster was empty and the pouch was - unsurprisingly - empty. Lex had not seemed the type to care about anything other than the Platinum Chip but the Khans definitely would not have passed up some extra caps for drugs. 

“Here, take some stimpacks and a few other first aid basics,” Doc held out the supplies. “Don’t go pushing yourself too hard just yet. And watch out for the geckos, they have a nasty bite.” 

He led her out to the front door and Lois thanked him for the help, but paused on the threshold, unsure if there was more she should say. She had never liked feeling indebted to anyone. 

“Keep yourself in one piece and we’ll call us even, okay?” Doc said with a smile. “Oh, I forgot! There’s one more thing I wanted to give you.” 

He rummaged through the cabinet next to the door and pulled out something Lois had thought she would never see again. A Pip-Boy. She had not seen one since she left her own Vault back in California over fifteen years ago. There had been few enough of the devices then, and she had not seen the need to take one when she left. It reminded her too much of all the things she would rather forget. But now? Perhaps a Pip-Boy might come in handy if she wanted to find Lex and the Platinum Chip. 

“Thank you, again,” she offered as she clasped the device around her right forearm. The screen glowed with green light as it synced up and read her vitals. 

Doc pointed south down the hill his house was situated on. The rest of the town of Goodsprings spread out below them. “Trudy’s place is that way, you can’t miss it with the neon signs.”

“And your son?”

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding him either,” Doc replied with a warm smile. “Take care of yourself, Miss Lane. I’d rather not have to patch you up again.” 

With a wave Lois set off into town in search of answers. 

* * *

The Prospector’s Saloon wasn’t hard to find. Goodsprings was barely a town, and most of the houses were either boarded up or more rubble than inhabitable structures. The main street, if it could be called that, consisted of a general store and the saloon, with a few rusted motorcycles lined up out front, like ghosts of what this place once was. 

The sign was made up of a mishmash of neon letters, the light flickering from the intermittent power generator. An old man sat on the porch but barely registered her as she stepped past him into the dim interior of the saloon. More light streamed through the holes in the walls than from the bare lightbulbs dangling from the ceiling. A woman - presumably Trudy - was cleaning glasses behind the bartop in the adjacent room but it was the occupants in the front room that drew her eye. 

A young man leaned against a jukebox in the corner, the sound that filtered out of the old machine watered down and spotty, while he read a comic book. At his feet lay a dog - or what Lois had assumed was a dog before she saw all the metal and circuitry that made up most of its body. Part of its brain was visible behind a cloudy glass covering on its skull, and lights blinked across the interior. 

If the man was Doc Mitchell’s son, they looked nothing alike. Where the doctor was blonde and average height, the young man in front of her was dark haired and incredibly tall, with broad shoulders and a confident, quiet air. And no one had mentioned anything about a robotic dog. 

Lois must have made a noise in her throat, because the dog perked up and its head swiveled toward her. The lights flashed brighter behind the glass covering. The young man lowered his comic book and turned his attention toward her as well. 

“I didn’t think you’d be awake yet.” His voice was a pleasant rumble as he took her in, assessing her for injury as the doctor had. It was the only similarity she had seen so far.

“You’d be surprised what I can live through,” she replied with a smirk. “But I suppose I have you to thank for getting me out of my last scrape.” 

“Scrape is putting it lightly,” he frowned. “When I found you I thought you were dead.” 

“Good thing you’re not the one that’s the doctor,” she retorted, trying to hide how his words had shaken her up. _Dead? No. Not yet, anyway._

He shook his head. “I never did have much skill with a scalpel. I’m more comfortable with a rifle in my hands.” He set the comic book aside and strode over, the dog trotting obediently after him. 

When he held out his hand she was surprised by how large it was, and though his palm was calloused when she grasped it and the skin was still warm. It enveloped hers with certainty, but she didn’t feel trapped. Not like how most men tried to hold her. 

“I’m Clark Mitchell,” he introduced himself with a warm smile, another similarity to the doctor. “And this is Crypto.”

“Lois Lane,” she returned, glancing down curiously at the dog. There was a faint marking along the metal haunch. She could barely make out the silhouette of an animal - a bull perhaps? - with a golden laurel around it. 

“What - what happened to him?” she ventured to ask. 

“I’m not really sure, hence the name,” Clark said with a shrug. “He already had these parts when I found him. He was wandering alone in the hills south of here, starving and dehydrated. I gave him what I had and he followed me back to Goodsprings. Hasn’t left my side since.” He scratched Crypto between the ears, just behind the glass covering. The dog wagged its tail in appreciation. “He makes one hell of a gecko hunter though.” 

Lois smiled at the clear affection between the pair. Sure, there were plenty of dogs running around the wilds but most had been ravaged by the two centuries of fallout and loyal companions were a thing now more tall tale than reality. 

Speaking of reality, her own concerns pressed down on her. Her father - hell, anyone with half a brain - would tell her not to go looking for trouble given she’d ended up in a grave the last time, but she couldn’t let this go. She needed to find Lex and she needed to understand the importance of what she had been carrying. And maybe, if she was honest with herself, she wanted her revenge. 

“I don’t suppose you noticed anything else when you found me the other night? Something about who did this to me?” Lois asked, trying to keep her tone casual. 

Clark shook his head. “I was out in the hills all day, and there was no one else around when I stopped by the graveyard. Crypto was the one that scented you actually,” he absentmindedly gave the dog another pat on the head. “There were a bunch of footprints around the grave but I didn’t really think anything of it at the time, as I was more concerned about getting you to my dad.”

She supposed she couldn’t fault him for that, since it was that choice that saved her life. Still, Lois hated feeling like she kept turning up dead ends instead of answers. 

“I’m gonna ask around, see if anyone else knows anything.” 

She thanked him once more and went over to the bar to speak to Trudy. The woman was around Doc’s age, but where his demeanor was warm, hers was all vinegar and business. And Lois lacked the caps to leverage any information. 

“I told you, I’m not one to go sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong,” the bartender snapped and pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “I’ve no interest in getting this town mixed up in your bad business.”

Lois scowled back. Nosy was in the old woman’s nature, if her obvious eavesdropping on Lois and Clark’s conversation was any indication. “I certainly didn’t ask to be attacked by some thug in a clown suit! I just need a direction to follow, and I’ll happily leave your lousy town in the dust.”

That phrasing didn’t seem to make Trudy any happier, but she finally offered a tidbit of information on Lex and the Khans, if only in an effort to get rid of Lois. 

“One of ‘em stopped by here for some drinks, wanted to take ‘em on the road instead of sticking around. Thought he mighta’ said something about headin’ toward Primm because of a problem on the I-15.” 

“What kind of problem?” Lois pressed. 

Trudy shrugged, clearly at the end of her charity. “These days it could be anything. Legion, mutants, ghouls - they’re all enough to make one want to take the long route back to the Strip.”

Lois didn’t miss the mention of Vegas - and her own hunch about the checker suited man’s destination had been similar given his cloying suave nature - but she knew she wouldn’t get any more information out of the bartender. Better to get the supplies she needed and get on the road. And if those men were too chicken to take the north road, maybe she could cut them off and beat them back to the Strip. 

She nodded a curt thanks to Trudy and left the Propsector’s Saloon behind. The owner of the general store next door was hardly any friendlier, and probably even stingier, but Lois managed to trade him the remains of her merc armor for a barely serviceable varmint rifle, a few days' worth of road rations, and a patched satchel to hold everything. Hopefully it would be enough to last her until the next town, and until she found the next pocketful of caps.

Ready to knock the dust of the sad little town (and her temporary grave) from her boots, Lois set off north along the crumbling highway. Her canteen was full with questionably brown water and she kept her newly acquired varmint rifle at the ready. Though she really wished she still had her old pistol that she’d carried with her ever since she had taken the courier position. Maybe one of those Khans still had it, if they hadn’t already traded it for some jet or hydra.

She hadn’t made it more than a mile out of town, the road beginning to wind up into the hills of scrub grass and red rock, before she hit a wall of homemade signs. Words of “Stop!” “Danger!” and “Monsters ahead!” had been painted across the weathered wood with whatever manner of paint they had managed to scrounge up. 

For the people of Goodsprings she guessed everything beyond what remained of their front yards was monstrous and terrifying. So Lois ignored the signs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clark is the only Smallville character to not be swapped with a singular character from Fallout: New Vegas, instead being an amalgamation of the minor character "Sunny Smiles" and some original inspiration. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Varmints (Of both the Human & Reptilian Variety)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry friends, I was hoping to have this out by yesterday evening for you but I kept dragging my feet on how I wanted this chapter to end. My goal is to post two new chapters a week, and I will do my level-best to keep to that schedule. Thanks for the kudos and giving this story a chance!
> 
> Content Warning: some alcohol use, language, and gun violence

Lois was in no mood to die again after so recently climbing out of the grave, but when the geckos started swarming through the crevices toward her she knew only two things for certain. She did not possess enough bullets to take down all the varmints and she really would have preferred her end to be a bit more glorious than being gnawed to death by overgrown lizards. 

She scrambled backward down the slope as fast as she could, trying to keep her eye on every approaching gecko, which was near impossible. Their scales blended in with the purples and reds of the stony landscape and their jittering run was difficult to track. If she could just make it back to the edge of Goodsprings the regular scent of other humans might be enough to deter the pests. 

Pebbles and grit slid beneath her heels, throwing her off balance as she careened down the crumbling highway. She nearly flew past withered agave stalks and centuries-old car skeletons, around rocky spires and the makeshift danger signs she really should have heeded. 

The watertower grew ever closer and she could start to make out the headstones in the graveyard when something slammed into her from behind. Lois cried out, more from shock than pain, but the weight of the creature who had pounced sent her tumbling forward. On instinct she tucked her head and rolled, effectively brushing the gecko off, but with the steepness of the incline she continued to fall. The world swirled around her in a haze of dust and reptilian shrieks. 

And then she came to a sudden, dizzying halt as her shoulder collided with something solid. She peeked one eye open and found she had come to rest against a splintering fence post, one of many that lined the edges of the graveyard. She did not have time to take in any more before the geckos descended upon her.

Sharp teeth and manic black eyes flashed before Lois as she drew up her arms to protect herself. She’d lost her grip on the rifle in her fall, but wasn’t planning on going without a fight. She used her elbows and knees to shove the creatures back as she staggered to her feet. Still the geckos pressed in heavier, claws and scales scraping against exposed skin. She could feel the hot, fetid breath of one creature far too close to her neck. 

A shot rang out, then three more in quick succession. One gecko screamed in a pain, a sound that made Lois shudder, and the rest bolted. The injured creature tried to stagger away, blood spurting from its side, but in a streak of fur and metal Crypto was on it, tearing its throat out with a triumphant snarl. 

Lois doubled over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath and assess her injuries. Crimson stained the blue fabric covering her right forearm and her shoulder ached from its collision with the fence post but she’d survive. Just like every time before.

She spotted her rifle on the ground a few feet away and went to retrieve it as Clark Mitchell approached, his gaze still on the geckos retreating into the hills. 

“About time, Goodsprings!”

The unintentional nickname tumbled out as Lois greeted him, surprising the both. She was about to take it back when the raised eyebrow he gave her made her pause.

“Goodsprings?” 

“You don’t like it? I thought it was rather fitting.”

She liked seeing that irritated look on his face. 

“And I was just thinking you were the poster child for Trouble,” he shot back, his teasing surprising her. Lois didn’t think he had it in him. 

“At least I’m better at coming up with names than you,” she turned her gaze to their canine companion. “I mean, really? Crypto? He’s already enough of a cyborg, at least try to give him a normal dog name like Shelby or Rex.”

“Both of those are terrible.” Clark stubbornly crossed both arms over his chest.

Crypto tilted his head as he looked between the two humans, clearly confounded by their bizarre conversation, and Lois had to laugh. 

“I suppose the name’s stuck now. But next time you pick up a stray, let me do the naming.”

_Next time?_ Like she would ever put down roots in a place like this. 

She shook off the strange turn of her thoughts and shouldered her rifle. The sun was swiftly lowering toward the horizon and she was not about to risk continuing on in the dark with those blasted geckos around. 

“I guess you’re stuck with me for one more night. Think you could spot me a drink?” 

* * *

“Damn it!” Lois hissed, flinching away from the needle. 

“I told you to hold still.” Clark’s voice was ever patient as he reached to pull her arm back. “The sooner you do that, the sooner I’ll be done with the stitching. Unless you want me to fetch Doc?”

She scowled back but relented once more to his ministrations. Doc Mitchell had already done enough to save her life, and her pride prevented her from admitting that she’d already come far too close to undoing his good work. 

So there she sat in the flickering lights of the Prospector’s Saloon as Clark did his best to patch up the worst of the scrapes from her gecko encounter, while she dulled the sting of the needle with a bottle of whiskey. Crypto lay at their feet, and his tail thumping rhythmically against the table. 

Trudy had closed up the bar hours ago, but allowed them to hang around if Clark locked up the place when they were done. The woman had glared suspiciously at Lois before she headed home, certain that an out-of-towner would be the demise of her business, though Lois wanted to tell her it would sooner be her severe lack of friendliness. 

Clark let out a low chuckle as he knotted the line of stitches down her inner forearm. They were a little crooked but they held sure. “I honestly didn’t think you’d ever let me finish this.”

“Maybe if you were a little gentler I wouldn’t have flinched so much,” she retorted, unwilling to admit just how much care he had taken to patch her up. No one had shone her that degree of kindness in years. 

“You really think it’s such a good idea to seek vengeance on your attackers?” Clark asked after another moment of silence. “You barely got out of this town before you ran into trouble.” 

“That’s debatable,” Lois argued. “I’ve been through far worse than geckos.” 

He searched her face, eyes drifting toward her forehead as if he could actually see where the bullet had pierced her skull. _But why wasn’t there a scar?_

“You know, it’s generally a bad idea to travel alone in the wasteland.” His words brought her back to reality, and she had a terrible feeling she knew what he was going to say next. “Maybe I should come with you, at least make sure my father’s good work holds up enough to get you back to the Strip.”

And there it was. She had barely known him a day and yet she knew that response was so typically _him_. Clark Mitchell, the eternal boy scout.

“Look, Goodsprings, I can handle myself just fine. What happened with the geckos was a fluke. I hardly need a babysitter,” she scoffed, taking a swift drink of whiskey. She didn’t want to see the look of hurt that would inevitably flash in his eyes. _Lois Lane does not pick up strays_. 

Yet it wasn’t hurt she heard in his reply, but an all too familiar stubbornness.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you to take help where you can get it? Especially in _this_ world?”

Lois didn’t have an answer to that, but then she wasn’t given a chance. Something crashed through the front window and the world exploded around them. 

Clark threw himself toward her and they fell to the floor in a tangle of limbs as lightbulbs shattered and gunshots peppered the walls and jukebox. The bridge of _Big Iron_ fizzled out into static. Somewhere nearby Crypto was growling low in his throat, eager to face the threat head on. 

The gunshots slowly petered out but Lois and Clark did not move, still huddled together on the floor of the saloon in a manner that would look rather scandalous in any other situation. 

“We know you’re in there, Jimmy!” A voice edged with violence called out from the front of the building. 

Lois and Clark looked at each other, uncertain. _Who the hell was Jimmy?_ And what did it have to do with them? She had a sudden fear that Lex had somehow found out she survived and that she was not as done with this Platinum Chip business as she had thought. That Lex would never be done with her until she stopped rising from the grave. 

“You’ve got two minutes to show your cowardly face before I burn this whole town down around you,” the voice continued, and Lois knew it wasn’t an empty threat. She could practically hear the seconds beginning to tick by. 

Clark was glancing around the room, seemingly searching for a possible escape, but before she could open her mouth and tell him to hurry up with a plan, the sound of creaking hinges broke the tense silence. 

At first she thought it was the man outside, grown suddenly impatient and deciding to haul out Jimmy - whoever he was - himself. But the front door of the saloon remained firmly shut, despite the bullet holes ripped into it, and the sound of footsteps echoed softly out from the adjoining room. 

She looked up to see a young man half crawling through the doorway into the room they occupied, wringing his hands and completely oblivious to their presence. He appeared to be only a few years younger than them and was dressed in unassuming caravan attire, except for a ridiculous bow tie around his neck, and he looked completely out of his depth. Although she had to admit she knew how he felt after her encounter with Lex. 

It was Crypto’s growl that finally drew his attention their way, and his whole body flinched when he caught sight of the three of them huddled on the debris-littered floor. But his shock was quickly replaced by guilt, like a kid caught sneaking into their parents’ liquor stash in an effort to break up the tedium of vault life (or maybe that was a uniquely Lois Lane experience). 

“I’m assuming you’re Jimmy?” Lois asked in a wry tone at the same time Clark asked, “What do these guys want with you?” 

She was still having a hard time understanding what motivated him to be more concerned about others than himself while in the midst of a shoot out. Maybe he just didn’t possess a fight or flight response like the rest of them. Quickly they untangled themselves and the three sat crouched together on the floor, still out of line of sight. 

Jimmy - or so she assumed - looked between the two of them a moment before responding to Clark. “I made a bad deal. It wasn’t on purpose, I didn’t even know who they were at the time. But I guess I got myself in over my head.”

“And who are they?” Clark pressed, though his tone remained calm, almost gentle. 

“They call themselves Powder Gangers. Escaped from an NCR prison camp a little ways east of here. A man named Joe Cobb is the leader of the group that I ran across when I was doing a circuit for the Crimson Caravan Company. They wanted weapons, more than I had at the time, but I promised I’d bring more for them. And then when I got to Goodsprings I realized who they actually were, and no way in hell was I about to go back and give them more guns. They’d never let me leave a second time.”

Jimmy scrubbed a hand over his dirt-stained face and Lois saw that there were deep purple shadows under his eyes. 

“I was gonna book it back to Vegas but then there was the deathclaw incident up by the quarry and I was stuck. Thought I’d try to hide out long enough for the Powder Gangers to forget about me.”

“Well they certainly didn’t forget,” Lois muttered, and Clark elbowed her in the side as best he could from his crouched position. 

Jimmy looked absolutely forlorn as he said, “I suppose you’re gonna turn me over to him.” 

The voice that had kept Lois alive these past ten years screamed at her to do exactly that, but the other voice - the one she barely remembered existed but had started to creep back in since meeting Clark that morning - told her to stay her hand. To protect Jimmy, who was just as naive and innocent as she had once been. There was already enough death and destruction in the wasteland; she didn’t need to add to it. 

“You have a weapon for yourself?” she asked Jimmy. He nodded, still pale with anxiety. 

Clark raised an eyebrow at her in silent question but she shook her head. No time to explain her plan, their seconds were running out. He would just have to trust her.

Lois grabbed her rifle and climbed to her feet. She had no idea how many Powder Gangers waited for them outside the saloon and she was really starting to hate finding herself in these near-death situations. She prayed that this new - or was it old? - voice wouldn’t get her killed as she strode toward the bullet-ridden door.

“You’re too late, Cobb. Jimmy’s dead,” she called out. 

A beat of silence and then a voice that had to be Joe Cobb replied, “Nice try, Jimmy. You got the townsfolk playing make believe for you?” 

Lois grit her teeth. Clearly she needed to be a bit more persuasive. 

“The boy got himself mixed up in some bad trouble before he ever met you - been on the NCR’s wanted list for awhile, and I aim to bring back that bounty, even if it means taking out a few extra obstacles.” She filled her voice with as much cold detachment as she could muster. “Although I’m guessing I might get a good bit of caps for your head too.” 

Clark and Jimmy looked at her uneasily, but she would never admit that the emotion (or lack thereof) was not as much of a stretch as she pretended. There had been a stretch of time when she really did work as a bounty hunter to get by, and that detachment was the only thing that kept her own soul from disintegrating at the dirtiness of the work. 

Bounty hunters were not lawmen, and those they brought in were not necessarily hardened criminals but people that owed debts big or small. And when they couldn’t pay with caps, it was expected that they would pay with whatever they had left, whether it was the clothes off their backs or their very lives. 

“Until I see a body bleedin’ out in front of me, I ain’t leavin,” Cobb hissed, moving swiftly toward the end of his rope. 

“Like I’m just gonna’ walk out of here and let you take the bounty for yourself,” Lois scoffed back, desperately casting her mind about for her next move. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted the bloody bandages left behind from Clark sewing up her arm.

_Hell, better than nothing._

She dashed over to grab the bandages, still heavy with blood, snatched the ridiculous bow tie from Jimmy’s collar, and smeared crimson across the gingham fabric. Then she shoved it through the largest hole in the door. 

“You need me to chop off a finger too?” she said wryly, praying it wouldn’t actually come to that.

Seconds ticked by with no answer, and the hair on the back of her neck tingled in warning. Faintly she heard the click of a hammer. On instinct Lois kicked the door open. The edge bashed into the side of Cobb’s head and she swung the muzzle of her rifle around to aim squarely at his chest as he hastily tried to right himself. Three more men were spread out behind him, all armed though they looked just as surprised as their leader. Behind her, Clark and Jimmy had their weapons ready and Crypto quivered in anticipation. 

“Why don’t I make this easy on you, Cobb. You leave now and I won’t shoot you dead where you stand,” Lois snarled with determination. She refused to be the one to end up in a grave today.

Cobb grinned, though it was anything but pleasant.

“It seems I outnumber you, _bounty hunter_.” It was clear from the way he said it that he never believed her lie.

“Don’t they teach you to count in those prisons, son?” a new voice asked and both Lois and Cobb swiveled to see Doc Mitchell step out of the shadows near the general store with a shotgun in his hands and a smirk on his face. 

“You heard the woman. You best get to runnin’ if you hope to live through this night,” someone else added, and Lois’s mouth nearly dropped open in surprise at the sight of Trudy with a carbine leveled squarely at the Powder Gangers. Chet stood beside her with his own weapon and a few more armed townspeople lingered at the edges of the street behind them. 

Cobb scowled before - achingly slow, it seemed to Lois - he holstered his pistol. The others followed suit as they retreated from the saloon and down the main street. Lois and Clark followed them to the edge of town, though Jimmy hung back. 

“You’re fooling yourself if you think I won’t return with the rest of my men and burn this whole damned place to the ground,” Cobb said over his shoulder. 

Lois certainly wasn't a fool. Her grip tightened on the trigger. 

Cobb whirled around, having pulled another pistol out from the inside of his jacket, but she had been expecting the move. Men like him, with nothing else to lose, fought tooth and nail to the end. Her own shot caught him in the chest before he could fire, and he hit the ground with a grunt. Blood seeped out across the front of his jacket and his pistol fell from his grip. 

Clark shouted something as he crouched down to examine the wound but the world had gone strangely silent around Lois. She looked on impassively as the man breathed his last. The other three Powder Gangers were racing toward the horizon without a backward glance. 

It would not be her body being laid to rest in the graveyard tonight. 

  
  



	4. Primm and Proper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, I really wanted to get to this chapter out earlier in the week but it turned into a beast, though I think I'm pretty happy with how it finally turned out. And I know I left you all with a pretty dark take on Lois at the end of the last chapter, but I can't help imagining that she would take a much more practical - albeit grim - view on life in the wasteland than Clark would, at least at the beginning. No doubt they will both change as they continue to travel together. Thank you for giving Lois (and me!) a chance with this story.
> 
> Content Warning: Language and brief gun violence

It wasn’t the revolving neon bison or the skeletal wooden roller coaster that loomed behind it that drew Lois’s eyes toward Primm but the letters above a nearby building that spelled out “Mojave Express.” Clark had wanted to press farther before they finally stopped for the night, but relented to checking out Primm when Lois suggested she might find more information about who had set up the courier job in the first place. That might in turn answer the question of  _ why  _ Lex was so interested in the Platinum Chip. 

Or so she hoped as they veered off the crumbling freeway into the town. They did not make it across the overpass before they were stopped by a soldier dressed in the uniform of the Northern California Republic and carrying a service rifle, though he looked barely old enough to use it. 

“What’s your business here? Primm’s currently closed to visitors,” he stated in a voice that sounded less than confident, particularly when Crypto let out a low growl. Lois raised an eyebrow and Clark took one step closer, his height further intimidating the young soldier. 

“What’s going on?” he demanded, though not unkindly. Even in the wasteland he didn’t lose all his manners. 

“Powder Gangers have taken over the town,” the soldier answered, and Lois exchanged a flitting look of dismay with Clark. So the escaped criminals had made it this far south already. 

But she desperately wanted more answers than she had found so far, and she needed to get into that courier office and see the files for herself. Her father would have called it a foolish, unnecessary venture, but she saw it as a step toward closure. Why was that damned Platinum Chip worth killing over? 

“What about the rest of the townspeople?” Clark’s concern was evident, but Lois was not about to see this turn into another showdown. 

“Most are holed up in their homes, or in the Vicki and Vance Casino across the way, as far as our scouts can tell,” the soldier replied, looking uncertain about whether he should be sharing the information. 

“And what about the NCR?” Lois cut in, her irritation at the whole situation rising. “Are you all just going to sit on your asses until the proper paperwork comes through instead of actually helping the people who need you?” 

Clark cut her a glare but she ignored it as she stared the young soldier down. She’d seen the same thing happen too many times over during her courier travels. The New California Republic might have had good intentions of bringing law and order to the wasteland but far too often it got tangled up in its own bureaucracy. 

“N-no ma’am, it’s not that. We just can’t afford to spare any men with the increased movement of the Legion in the area.” 

“I don’t see any Legion at the moment,” she snapped back. 

The soldier flushed crimson. “I’m s-sorry, I don’t know any m-more than that. The lieutenant’s in the big tent down the road if you w-want to speak to him.” 

“You can bet I will.” Lois shoved past him, uncaring that she’d left him a sniveling mess or that she’d completely frustrated her traveling companion. If this is what it took to get some answers from the courier office then she would do it. 

Other soldiers spared her a bewildered glance as she stormed through the camp to the designated tent, but none dared to actually confront her, not even when she shoved through the worn tent flaps shouting for the Lieutenant. 

“Can I help you, ma’am? Sir?” the officer looked highly unamused by the interruption as he looked from Lois to Clark, who had begrudgingly trailed after her.

“I’ve been told you’re not letting travelers into Primm and yet failing to deal with the problem there, though I’m certain you have the capability to take care of a few convicts.” She leveled an equally unamused expression back at the lieutenant. “Isn’t dealing with criminals and protecting people your  _ job _ ?”

“The NCR has bigger priorities than a town like Primm,” the officer replied in a cool voice, already starting to turn back to whatever discussion he had been having with his staff who were studiously ignoring the intruders. 

Lois’s temper boiled over at the clear dismissal.  _ No going back now _ . “If you won’t deal with the problem then you have no authority over keeping people out.” 

The lieutenant clenched his jaw in frustration. “Then whatever happens to you is on your own head, but if you get the rest of those townsfolk in there killed you’ll be the one going to prison.”

She really wanted to punch him, and Clark must have expected it, because he grabbed her wrist and towed her back outside before anything more could happen. 

“Can’t we make it just one day before you do something idiotic enough to get us killed?” he snapped when they were in the clear. 

Lois rubbed her wrist though his grip had not been hard; she needed something to do while she tried to reign in her temper. She ignored the jab as she studied the abandoned streets of Primm across the overpass. She could swear the entire Mojave was against her. 

* * *

They set off into Primm at dusk, their weapons at the ready. Clark had instructed Crypto to remain in the NCR camp, as the lights blinking within his cyborg brain would surely give them away. 

Lois cast her companion a sidelong glance as she said, “You know, this wholesome farm boy act of yours is really gonna stand out in the rest of the wasteland, let alone if we make it to the Strip.” 

Clark merely grunted in response. While he had shown plenty of civility to that upstart lieutenant, he still hadn’t forgiven her for what had happened with Cobb in Goodsprings. It wasn’t like she was the one who had shot up the Prospector’s Saloon. Hell, she’d saved his damned life! 

He had barely looked at her for the rest of the night after that, instead helping his father bury the body and check everyone else for injury. Even Jimmy had looked jumpy after what happened, though he seemed thankful enough for their intervention and even told them to look him up at the Crimson Caravan Company in southeastern Vegas. 

Clark had offered to let Jimmy travel with them on their own venture - much to Lois’s consternation - but he chose to remain in Goodsprings until the issues on the north road were cleared up, as he was still hesitant to run into any more of the Powder Gangers going south. And he felt he owed it to the townsfolk to help with the cleanup and repair of the Prospector’s Saloon since they had helped save him from Cobb. Doc Mitchell had promised to keep an eye on the boy and make sure he stayed out of trouble.

Although Lois wondered if Jimmy’s company at the moment would make things between her and Clark a touch less awkward.  _ Too late now _ , she shook her head and tried to stay focused on the present. Otherwise she was bound to get another bullet in the head. 

She spotted the first guard wandering the street up ahead, though his back was turned to them at the moment. She ducked into the nearest alley, Clark right behind her, before they were spotted.The Mojave Express building was less than a block away and she was not interested in getting into another shootout if she could help it. 

Clark peered around the corner to keep an eye on the guard and Lois’s luck must have finally turned because he whispered, “He’s moving off to another part of town. If we hurry we should make it.” 

Lois wasted no time, making a beeline for the door beneath the Mojave Express sign. It was locked - no surprise there - but Clark gave a quick wrench of the knob and the flimsy bolt broke without too much noise. They slipped inside the dim interior before the guard returned. 

The building appeared to serve as both home and office, with a long counter across the front of the room and living quarters set up in the back. The space was abandoned, items in disarray as if its residents fled quickly with the arrival of the Powder Gangers. A wall of cubbies, currently empty of packages, lined the space behind the counter. A ledger book lay open at the far end of the counter, and she leafed through the pages until she spotted her own name. 

It was the oddest courier job she had ever seen. She had no idea she had been part of a larger scheme. Six couriers and six packages, with each item to be ferried stranger than the last: fuzzy dice, dinosaur figurine, toy rocket… Who would want such ridiculous Old World items? And who had the caps to pay for it all? 

And though Lois triple checked, there was no name attached to the invoice. Clearly whoever had hired the couriers had wanted to remain discreet. She glanced once more about the shop-turned-home. Perhaps the person who ran this office would have more information that the ledger could provide. Although she wasn’t sure Clark would agree to come with her to the Vicki and Vance Casino to find out. There was also still the matter of the Powder Gangers.

“Don’t even think about it,” Clark muttered, seeming to understand the gleam in her eye as she closed the ledger. “You heard the lieutenant. You could get everyone killed by running in there.” 

“Do you have a better plan?”

“Look somewhere else a bit less deadly for information,” he deadpanned. 

“Clever, Goodsprings. But I’m not about to give up a lead when I’m this close to an answer,” Lois pushed past him toward the door, hand already reaching over her shoulder for her rifle. 

“Lois,  _ wait _ !” Clark threw out his arm to stop her. “Think for a moment before you rush in there, gun blazing. Other peoples’ lives are at stake.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” She tried in vain to reign in her budding temper. “Given what happened back with Cobb, I’m pretty sure I understand the stakes of this world better than you do.”

He looked ready to argue further but she did not give him the chance. She would not be scolded like a child, so she pushed his arm aside and stepped back out into the night. 

The coast was still clear, and she could see the doors of the casino just down the street, though they were also within view of the Bison Steve, where two more Powder Gangers stood guard in the shadows. As much as Clark seemed to think her answer to everything was to blast her way through, she would prefer to find a distraction that drew the guards away instead. And if the boy scout was so dead set on the peaceful option, maybe he could play the role of decoy. 

She pointed discreetly between Clark and the Bison Steve before miming finger guns shooting wildly into the air, and thought she’d gotten her point across rather well until her companion cast her a bewildered expression. 

“I need you to go make some noise over by the roller coaster to draw off the guards so I can slip into the casino,” she whispered with an exasperated sigh. 

Clark rolled his eyes. “You could have just said that in the first place.”

“It’s not nearly as much fun, or subtle,” she nudged him in the side. “Are all farm boys terrible at sneakery?”

“Sneakery isn’t a word,” he muttered as he double checked rounds in his rifle.

“So they do have dictionaries at least.”/So they’re good at spelling anyway.

He didn’t dignify that jab with a reply as he set off through the shadows toward the roller coaster. Lois smirked at his retreating back. At least he was trading barbs with her again. 

* * *

Before Lois could breathe a sigh of relief as she slipped through the doors of the casino, the staccato of Clark’s gunshots echoing in the distance, she found the muzzle of another gun in her face. 

“And just who are you?” a grizzled voice asked from the other end of the shotgun. 

“Lois Lane, courier,” she squeaked out, still trying to calm in her thumping heart from her mad dash over. At least he wasn’t the shoot first, ask questions later type.

The man lowered his shotgun and peered at her curiously, bright blue eyes standing out in a weathered face. “Courier, eh? All the other ones hired got their payment weeks ago, and when I heard nothing about you I figured you for dead.” 

“I’m a hard one to kill,” she said with a smirk. 

“Johnson Nash.” He held out a hand in introduction. “I run the Mojave Express office here in town. Or at least I did before those damned Powder Gangers showed up.” 

“Well you’re the one I was hoping to find, actually,” Lois admitted as they stepped deeper into the casino. 

Half the town of Primm seemed to be here, mingling on the game floor and whiling away the hours with slots and poker. She didn’t miss the fact that all were armed and looked ready to shoot or bolt at a moment’s notice. How could the NCR just sit back and let outlaws run these people out of their own homes? 

“Well if you’re looking for your payment, I’m sorry I can’t help you. It was never went through seeing as how the package didn't arrive at its destination. And as you can see, I’m in something of a dicey situation at the moment.” 

She shook her. “While I could use the caps, that’s not why I’m here. I’m looking for information about the job itself. Who hired me and the others? And what was with the packages?” 

Nash seemed to understand what she meant. “Yes, they were rather odd, but that’s not much of a surprise given Mr. House’s known eccentricities.” 

“You mean Lionel House? The owner of New Vegas?” Lois could scarcely believe what she heard. 

While she had never actually been to the Strip before, she knew of Mr. House. Everyone in the Mojave did, as most considered him the savior of civilization. Before he showed up this part of the wasteland had been filled with warring tribes scrambling over the cleanest watering holes. He and his Securitrons brought order, protection, caps, commerce… and of course the infamous vices to be found on the Strip.  _ So what could he possibly want with a little poker chip? _

And then another thought occurred to her. “I thought no one’s ever actually seen the man. He’s supposedly never left his casino.”

“That’s true,” Nash acceded. “He used one of his Securitrons to place the order, though it wasn’t the usual police bot. It was an odd sort, even had its own name. Called itself Morgan and was engineered with this cowboy persona.” 

“Anything else you can tell me about the packages or couriers?” she pressed. There had to be  _ something  _ that gave a clue as to why she was targeted. “Did anyone else come through here asking about the job?” 

Nash rubbed the stubble on his chin as he considered. “About a week back, just before the Powder Gangers arrived, there were a few men that took a room at the Bison Steve and threw caps around like they’d hit the lottery. My wife Ruby nearly punched one of ‘em when he had the audacity to call her dollface.” 

"Checkered suit?"

Nash nodded.

At least Lois was still on Lex’s trail, even if the rest of the information only left her with more questions than answers. “Any idea what direction they went next?”

“I think they mentioned something about taking the road east of Nitpon to Novac, one of 'em had a friend there.” 

All the more evidence that Lex was ultimately headed for the Strip. If that was indeed where he was from, did he know it was Mr. House who set up the job? And if so, what could possibly motivate him to defy the most powerful person in New Vegas? 

Lex already had at least a week’s lead on her. Lois didn’t want to fall any more behind, but she found she couldn’t leave the casino, Nash, or the rest of Primm’s townsfolk as they were under the terror of the Powder Gangers. She blamed her budding softness on Goodsprings, both the town and the man. 

“How many of the Powder Gangers are there?” she asked after a moment. “And are they all holed up in the Bison Steve?” 

“A few wander the streets at night to keep the NCR out but yeah, they made the hotel their headquarters. I think there’s about fifteen of ‘em, from what I’ve seen.” Nash paused, studying her. “You’re not foolish enough to go in there, are you? I thought a courier would’ve had more sense.” 

Last week, Lois would have agreed. 

“It’s not like the NCR’s doing anything to help you. Someone’s got to, right?” she said instead. 

“You think you’re some sort of superhero taking on all those dangerous men on your own?” Nash just about implied she was crazy, and Lois wondered if maybe she was. 

“Well, I’ve got some backup of my own, and they’ve already taken care of the guards at the hotel entrance,” she smiled. “Of course, if we get enough of the townsfolk to storm the place, we might scare ‘em off without a shot.” 

“You’re asking them to risk their lives to help you?”

Lois shook her head stubbornly. “No, I’m asking them to risk their lives for themselves and their homes, but I don’t intend to see them go in there alone. Maybe Primm doesn’t need a savior, just a little help.” 

* * *

Ruby Nash, Johnson’s wife, had been the one to ultimately inspire the other townsfolk to help take back the town. She stood up on one of the velvet-lined card tables and waved her soup ladle over her head as she gave a rousing speech about courage, resilience, and a strong desire to make the Powder Gangers face down the business end of a radscorpion. It was easy now to picture the spunky old woman taking a swing at Lex for his misogynistic remark. 

Ammo was distributed, weapons double and triple checked for functionality, and what little armor could be found was given to those who would be on the front line of their assault. The air positively hummed with anticipation. 

Lois kept watch at the entrance of the casino, peering outside every few minutes to make sure the coast remained clear. A few gunshots, now distant, still peppered the night so she knew Clark was successfully keeping the guards occupied. 

With one final glance around the circle of townspeople, Lois nodded the go-ahead and they all burst through the doors into the street between the two casinos. No one one appeared to stop them. The doors were locked but two young men were able to bash them open, and everyone else spilled in after them. 

The Powder Ganger standing guard within, startled by the sudden appearance of so many, dropped his weapon and fled instead of firing. Lois knew they needed to hurry before he warned the rest of his friends and their element of surprise was lost. 

The end of the hallway opened up into a lobby and Lois knew from Nash that on the other side of the wall was the hotel’s large dining room, the most likely place for the Powder Gangers to camp out. Going in through the lobby would be disastrous, but luckily Ruby still possessed a key to the kitchen’s rear entrance, through the maintenance hall. A third of the townspeople remained behind to stop any potential escape for the Powder Gangers while Lois, Ruby, and her husband led the rest toward the kitchen. 

Thankfully the kitchen remained empty when they reached it, and Lois crept over to the door that led into the dining room and peered through the glass porthole at the top. She could see several Powder Gangers pacing the room within, all armed and looking a little jumpy. The guard must have warned them, though they still weren’t sure what to expect. She doubted they ever thought the townspeople would rise up against them.  _ Perfect _ .

The Nashes and the others moved in closer as Lois took another quick look through the window. Most of the tables and chairs had been upended and pushed to the walls, leaving the center of the room clear. Someone had even built a campfire right on the tiles, though it made the air smoky as there was no proper ventilation. 

Finally she spotted what she was looking for: the ringleader. One man sprawled on a chair behind the crackling fire, boots stacked on top of one another and his rifle draped casually over his lap. He was the only one who appeared at ease, as if the people of Primm were hardly a threat. 

Lois looked forward to proving him wrong. 

She signaled to the others and on a silent count of five they rushed into the dining room, shooting into the air above the Powder Gangers as soon as they were clear of the door. From across the dining room the rest of the townspeople made their own entrance and blocked off any potential escape.

A few of the convicts lost their grips on their weapons in surprise while others dove for cover. The ringleader leapt from his chair and readied his weapon, but he did not cower like the rest. Lois held out a hand and the townspeople stilled in their shooting. 

“I think it’s past time you and your men move on from Primm,” she said as she stared down the gangleader. “Unless you want to continue to take your chances with the good people here?”

Beside her the townspeople took a step forward and brandished their weapons, glaring threateningly at the convicts. Those at the other doors followed suit, the noose around the Powder Gangers pulling tight.

The ringleader’s face finally betrayed emotion as he scowled at Lois, and she didn’t miss how his hand tightened on the grip of his gun. 

“We walk out of here, what’s to stop the NCR from picking us up and sending us right back to prison?” he asked in a voice gravelly from smoke. 

“I guess you’ll just have to run fast.” 

Before he could offer a retort she took aim and fired, knocking the weapon from his hand and forcing him to stagger back from the impact. Only a handful of the convicts still possessed weapons and none looked like they dare use them.

_ This would not be like Goodsprings. No deaths. _

She grinned, slightly manic, given that her hair-brained scheme had actually worked. “But I promise you this: you’ll get a better chance with them than you will with us.”

* * *

Lois knew Clark wouldn’t be happy with how she had involved the townspeople but she thought - hoped - he’d be more appreciative of the outcome. They’d saved the town, hadn’t they?

“You should have just let the NCR handle it!” he nearly shouted. 

They stood on the overpass following the successful re-taking of the Bison Steve and a report to the NCR lieutenant. Ruby and Jonshon Nash had offered them a room in the hotel for the night but Lois had declined, wanting to get back on the road to find Lex.

“The NCR  _ wasn’t  _ handling it,” she snapped back. “What else was I supposed to do?”

“Maybe not something that could get all of Primm killed!” He raked his hands through his hair, upending its normally tidy appearance. 

She didn’t understand. She knew her impulsiveness frustrated him, but she thought she had made the same choice he would have. The unselfish, heroic choice instead of her usual every-woman-for-herself choice. 

Crypto whined and paced between them, unnerved by the tension in the air. She patted his head reassuringly to give herself a moment to think. Staying cool-headed was not her strong suit. 

“What exactly is your problem? Are you so arrogant that you need to be the one to make every decision? Are you just made because I did this without asking for permission?”

Clark sighed and flexed his hand in frustration. “You might think you’re being noble and brave, but shooting your way out of every problem isn’t the answer.”

“I wasn’t planning on shooting anyone,” Lois ground out. She had a churning feeling in her gut that she knew what this was really about. “My hope was that we could scare them off without a fight at all.”

“But knowing you, and the instability of the Powder Gangers, it could have easily turned violent.”

_And there it was._

“So it’s not my plan you have issues with, it’s _me_.  I’m not some fuck-up. I know what I’m doing!”

Clark opened his mouth to retort. Closed it. At last blurted out, “You don’t  _ get  _ it, Lane! I watched you kill a guy and you didn’t even bat an eye. How can you be so comfortable with that?”

She flinched back as if physically struck. Took a moment to regather the shreds of her thoughts. “I’m hardly comfortable, but I know I did what I had to in order to survive. You might think things are tough in Goodsprings, but you might as well be living in Eden and never know the Hell outside your doorstep. The wasteland doesn’t give the rest of us much choice.”

He frowned, as stubborn as she was in his own view of morality. “There’s always a choice, Lois.” 

“No, Clark. There’s not.” Suddenly - infinitely - tired, she turned and walked away. 


End file.
